


Holding Moonlight

by claudia603



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Angst, Interspecies, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-16
Updated: 2010-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 23:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A starry-eyed hobbit meets a wandering <br/>Ranger in the woods of the Shire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Moonlight

Even the cleverest of rangers rarely could discern the   
tread of hobbit feet through the woods. And yet to a   
hobbit, with his sharp hearing, even the stealthy stride   
of a ranger sounded like an oliphaunt crashing   
through the brush. Therefore, Halbarad had never   
actually encountered any of the Shire folk, even while   
camping so close to their little villages that he could   
sometimes make out the faint ring of jolly voices   
raised in song and laughter. Rare indeed was the   
hobbit that wandered so far from his hole to walk in   
the woods under the starlight.

But then one fair evening, when the stars were   
sprinkled across the sky like carelessly strewn gems,   
Frodo Baggins strolled into the clearing in which   
Halbarad had set up camp, his ethereal face tilted   
toward the moon. Halbarad blinked, wondering if he   
might have dozed and fallen into an elvish dream. So   
fair was this slender halfling that Halbarad could only   
stare in wonder. In that moment he at last understood   
the spell under which Estel had fallen when he had   
first looked upon Arwen Undomiel.

But the enchanted moment ended when the halfling   
suddenly noticed Halbarad. He stopped, nearly   
stumbling over his ungainly feet, and stared at   
Halbarad like a startled deer, clearly not sure whether   
to bolt or to speak. Halbarad could now see the rare   
jewels that were his eyes, and was so captivated that   
he could do nothing more than hold out his trembling   
hands, palms up, and hope that the halfling   
understood that he meant no harm. For many   
minutes, neither of them spoke.

Then the halfling broke the silence. "Are you a   
ranger?" His refined voice was steady, and his initial   
fear of Halbarad had seemingly faded.

Still, Halbarad kept his voice low as he nodded,   
careful not to make any sudden movements.   
"Halbarad Dunadan, Ranger of the North I am."

"Frodo Baggins at your service," Frodo said, bowing.   
"My cousin Bilbo once told me about your people's   
selfless service to the Shire. Most of my countrymen   
know nothing of it and would appreciate it none the   
better if they did know."

"Still, I do it gladly," Halbarad said. The moonlight   
seemed treacherously bright, and it bathed the grass   
in the clearing with fairy light. When he was a young   
lad, he had been convinced that if he could capture   
the moonlight in a jar he could use it as light on a dark   
and rainy night. If he could but hold this very moment   
in a jar, gladly he would do so. For he could not   
imagine that this fair halfling would wish to remain in   
his presence for much longer.

But Halbarad was wrong.

"May I…that is, would you mind company?" Frodo   
asked. "I do so love to hear news of the outside   
world. We hear so little of it here in the Shire."

Halbarad tried not to sound too eager. "I would   
welcome your company."

And just as he had as a child, Halbarad harbored a   
yearning that the sun would never rise so that he   
could truly believe for a time that he had captured the   
moonlight, that it was his to hold.

 

***

Frodo had dressed as lightly as possible, but the chill   
of autumn had put a damper on his longing to wear   
naught but a shirt and breeches. Therefore, Halbarad   
was forced to unbutton weskit and shirt, as well as to   
unclasp braces with his large awkward fingers, and   
just as he had day after day for the past fortnight, he   
showed no signs that he begrudged the extra effort.   
Rarely did he remove all of his own clothing, including   
his muddy boots, but rather he unclasped his belt, put   
his weapons aside, and pulled down his worn   
breeches.

Halbarad had earlier spread his cloak on the ground,   
and now he pushed Frodo on it so that he lay on his   
back. The curled, dead leaves crackled beneath   
them. Frodo wrapped his arms around Halbarad's   
neck, breathing in the worn leather of his tunic, which   
abraded his skin in delightful tingles. Then when   
Halbarad entered him, shuddering with need, they   
rocked together, knowing no greater joy than not only   
hearing, but also feeling the rapid beat of one   
another's heart.

 

***

 

"What is this?" Halbarad asked. With Frodo, one   
never knew what delightful surprises he would spring   
on any given day.

Frodo threw himself down beside him and opened the   
wicker picnic basket. Always with hobbits, it was food.   
Halbarad had once jested that he had counted how   
many times their conversation had turned to the topic   
of food of some kind or other, whether literal or   
figurative, and it had worked out to be nearly half of   
their conversations.

Frodo grinned as he pulled item after item out of the   
basket. "Pickled mushrooms, made with herbs grown   
freshly in the garden. Tea cakes with poppy seed,   
pound cake drizzled with honey, bread baked fresh   
just this morning, apple jelly, made with apples fresh   
from the orchard beyond Bagshot Row. Oh, and this –   
a specialty of the Gamgees. Pickled cow's tongue."

"Now -- that's rare!" Halbarad laughed. "This alone   
makes the labors of my people to protect the Shire   
worth it."

"You cannot keep eating as little as you do." Frodo   
patted Halbarad's taut abdomen. "If you are to spend   
so much time in the Shire, the least you can do is   
sample the native food."

"I am not complaining," Halbarad said, but he winced   
just a little. "But cow tongue?"

"You will find it delightful." Frodo rose up on his   
knees and threw his arms around Halbarad, pressing   
his mouth against Halbarad's and sliding his tongue   
inside his mouth. Halbarad hardened at once – Frodo   
had this effect on him and it had not faded over the   
months they had taken pleasure in one another in   
these woods of the Shire. Frodo wriggled his bottom   
over Halbarad's arousal in tantalizing promise of what   
was to come later before he pulled away to sit primly   
beside the wicker basket again. "After all," he said,   
raising his eyebrows. "You clearly enjoy hobbit   
tongue."

"That I do," Halbarad said, chuckling before biting into   
a fresh slice of bread drizzled with honey. He took   
comfort in the knowledge that he could soon satisfy   
the maddening itch that sometimes flared just from a   
casual touch or a light kiss or even a glance into   
those expressive eyes.

After they ate, they leaned against the fat trunk of an   
oak, too full to do much more than doze. Even idle   
conversation took too much effort, and Halbarad's   
arousal had relaxed somewhat.

After a time, Frodo fiddled with his foot. He had no   
qualms about grooming his feet in front of Halbarad,   
pulling out burrs and clumps of dirt, untangling curls   
with his deft fingers. Halbarad stared in fascination.   
Hobbit feet were enormous, even more so than   
Halbarad's – and Halbarad was tall for a man. And   
Frodo's feet were so sturdy. Such a foot could tread   
on shards of broken shells and still not bleed.

Halbarad had never told Frodo this, but he had once   
snapped the neck of a man from a distant wild country   
who had killed a hobbit from Staddle for sport. Before   
killing him, the man had brutally cut the hair from the   
hobbit's feet, leaving them hairless and bloody.

So much of what encapsulated hobbits lay in their feet   
– sturdy, warm, and of the earth. And yet there was   
something that Halbarad read in Frodo's eyes that   
spoke of an ephemeral existence, something that   
slipped between his fingers. And this yanked at   
Halbarad's heart until his chest ached and he could   
scarcely breathe.

 

***

 

"Why?" Frodo asked, his heart mirrored in his   
wounded eyes.

Halbarad wished he could take back what he had   
said. He could continue to have this delicious creature   
night after night, and neither of them would tire of it.   
And perhaps one day they could make a home   
together, perhaps a quaint lodge in the woods out of   
prying eyes of ranger or hobbit. But a dark shadow   
had pressed on his heart, a portent of evil to come.   
One day their fates would twist together in great   
deeds and an unhappy ending, and sometimes   
Halbarad dreamed about fire and ash and of a great   
battle at the end of the world.

But Halbarad could not tell Frodo this. Instead he   
kneeled, grasping Frodo's arms, more to steady   
himself than to give false comfort. "I cannot do this."

"You cannot…?" Frodo looked puzzled, although his   
lips had paled and he had begun to breathe in sharp   
gasps. "But you have."

Halbarad uttered, "Moonlight does not last. Nor can   
you capture it. And in the end there is only darkness."

Frodo did not blink. "But moonlight is constant and   
gives of its light freely." His voice choked. "Do not do   
this. I love you." His hand trembled as he reached for   
Halbarad's chest, as if to feel if his heart were still   
there.

"And I, you. My heart tells me that we might meet   
again one day, although not under this sun."

Frodo fell against him with a cry of grief, and they held   
for so long that Halbarad feared he would never let   
go.

When as a lad Halbarad had been unable to trap the   
moonlight in his jar, he had taken the jar and dashed   
it against the rocks in a fury. He had wept bitter tears,   
but far better to mourn greatly for a short time than to   
grieve each time the sun rose.

Halbarad watched as Frodo walked out of his dream,   
bathed in the light of stars and moon, and he never   
again, as he had foreseen, saw him again under this   
sun.

END


End file.
